


A Collision of Interest is Inevitable

by burntmint, thePurebloodPrat



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Jack is a Vlad simp, M/M, Mild Gore, Obsession, Pompous Pep, Vivisection, past Jack Fenton/Vlad Masters, technically danny's emotionally an adult but since he's dead he doesn't age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29767617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntmint/pseuds/burntmint, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thePurebloodPrat/pseuds/thePurebloodPrat
Summary: Danny is coming to some rather earth-shattering conclusions about what it means to be half-ghost.
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Vlad Masters
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55
Collections: Pompous Pep Discord - Our Fanfics





	1. It's all that I can give to you, my dear.

**Author's Note:**

> hi there!! me and thePurebloodPrat have been long-time pompous pep shippers, and thought it would be fun to put together our most recent roleplay for your reading enjoyment! 
> 
> my parts are all vlad, his are danny, and we take turns passing the rest of the cast between us.

Vlad knows that his pride has often been his downfall in the past handful of decades. Not surprisingly, he hasn’t really spent all that much time reflecting on his behavior. What good would that do, at the end of the day? No, he’d much rather spend his time focusing on what’s most important; his companies, his research. He may have given up on swooning Maddie away from Jack, on getting young Daniel to join his side-- but that was no reason for his companies to fail, or his brain to get rusty. An easy, methodical distraction from the... _inadequacies_ of his own making. 

As it stood, he had no such qualms about ruining himself in this way. What else was there for him to lose? What was, at the end of the day, his sanity in exchange for the continued monotony of the status quo? With no true _‘friends’_ and no family, he felt like a loose cannon, ready to explode at any moment. His appearances in public go from frequent to scarce-- what was the point in going out and showing off if nobody he wanted was paying attention to him? It wasn’t as if Daniel was rearing his head, looking for a fight. 

They hadn’t even spoken in months.

Vlad won’t show how much it irritates him. Even though they had a ‘truce’-- which really just meant that he wasn’t allowed to antagonize the town, or the Fentons-- it felt hollow. Bitterness rises in his throat, but Vlad swallows it down. The boy was at college, anyway. No need for the young halfa to haunt this particular part of Illinois simply because Vlad willed it to be so.

So he’d spend weeks at a time locked away in his basement lab, tinkering and _plotting_ with no real drive or motivation. Inventing, _reworking_ , pulling knowledge from the depths of the ghost world and putting it to use. Advancement for advancement’s sake. Balancing all that with the mayoral duties he was bound to for Amity Park was a task in and of itself, and Vlad spent more time just going through the motions than actually _enjoying_ anything he was doing in an active way-- and if he was of more sound mind he might even acknowledge that it was actively detrimental to his mental well being to keep on the way he was. 

It's... childish, perhaps. No, it _definitely_ is childish, but Vlad overlooks those feelings more often than he dwells on them. Something, eventually, has to give. As fortune would have it, he had acquired the knowledge (via the small bugs he had left in the Fenton home for… safekeeping) that both Jasmine and Daniel would be making a return to their humble little town for summer break. Who could blame the old hermit for making a perfectly timed phone call, complaining about how he misses hanging around Jack and Maddie just like _‘the old times’_. 

“Oh, you can say hi to the kids, too!” Jack bellows on the other end of the line, much too loud to be polite. 

Vlad grits his teeth.

“I’ll be over, then.”

* * *

The Fenton family home never ceased to be full and messy, despite the only residents being his former colleagues these days. The glowing, neon sign was still lit up along the side, and the same old machines littered every available surface. He greets Maddie with warmth, and Jack with begrudging acceptance. It seems as if he’d gotten here a bit early. 

“Check this out, V-Man!” Jack swings his arm high, and Vlad ducks to avoid it. “The newest in Fenton Technology!” 

Another variant of some ghost-snagging, electric net, no doubt. It had been the latest focus of the couple, if he wasn’t mistaken. He spends time with them in the lab, going through other equations and mechanics, laughing as he hadn’t in a while. It felt almost normal-- almost like it had when they were in college, working on their thesis together. 

Vlad's chest aches. 

* * *

Two straight days of driving from Boston, Mass to Amity Park, Illinois with no one but their big sis for company is mentally and emotionally exhausting enough for anyone, let alone someone that could have unbuckled their seatbelt and flown the distance in a fraction of the time. Despite that, as they sped along the familiar old roads 2 hours from the last rest stop on the interstate, Danny finally felt like he could taste the sweet, sweet relief of summer break on his tongue. Sitting up a little more in his seat, Danny focused his gaze firmly through the windshield, a crumpled fast food bag falling from his lap to the floor. Jazz smiled at him from the driver’s seat, eyes glancing quickly over before focusing back on the road.

“Feels pretty good, huh?” she asked, smirking. 

College, as exciting, independent, and most importantly freeing as it felt, was also stressful, stressful, and of course… stressful. And so, the brief respite of summer break was arguably very well deserved. Danny glanced over to his sister for a moment and smiled, before focusing back on the road. They were barely twenty minutes out now. The freedom was palpable.

_Tangible._

“Mass is great and all, but I am _sooo_ ready to be back home,” he complained, rolling his shoulders and squirming impatiently. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, not in any recognizable rhythm or pattern, but plainly indicative of his mood, itching to escape.

Jazz’s smirk softened into a smile, and she found herself more and more willing to indulge. It was hard not to feel protective of her baby brother, especially when he still looked so young, but she knew he was smart; he mostly knows what he’s doing, so maybe by now it wouldn’t hurt. Glancing up at the GPS that was still going, even though she no longer needed it, she noted the time. Fifteen minutes. Might as well…

“Alright Danny,” she said with a soft, compromising sigh. “Go ahead.”

“Really?” he asked quickly, baby blue eyes blowing wide. “You don’t mind?”

“I know you’ve been itching for it for the past hour and a half. We’re close enough now, no one should notice. Just make sure you meet me at the door before Mom and Dad notice!”

“All RIGHT!” he shouts with a fist pump, not even bothering to unclasp his seatbelt before turning intangible and launching straight through the roof of the car.

Jazz leaned forward in her seat and watched him go before pulling up to a stop sign and losing sight as he sped away. Shaking her head, she mumbled to herself with exasperation so flat, she couldn’t even pretend she meant it.

“Oh, brother…”

Flying was euphoric. Out of every power, every change that had come about since the accident in his freshman year of high school, flying was unquestionably Danny’s favorite. I mean, sure intangibility was cool, but flying was absolutely something else. He couldn’t help but speed through several 360 loops and a handful of aerial feints before hovering above a flat brick building and gathering his bearings. 

After a few moments, he realized in his rush to jet through the air, he had brought himself much closer to home than he intended. He could just see the glow from the neon “FentonWorks” sign reflected on another building two or three blocks away. Stretching his arms above his head and cracking his shoulders, neck, and spine, he shook out the lingering fatigue from sitting in a car for over fifteen hours, and took a running leap from the roof of the building he landed on. Speeding through the air, he darted down into an alley around the corner from his home, and embraced the chilly rush as he transformed back into his normal form. 

Peeking around the wall, he watched as Jazz’s little green car rounded the corner and pulled into the driveway beside the house. Looking both ways, he darted across the street and right up to his front steps to ring the doorbell, just as Jazz slammed her door shut and walked up behind him.

* * *

At the sound of the doorbell, the three of them made their way back upstairs, Vlad sitting on the couch while Maddie starts the coffee machine in the kitchen. Jack throws open the door wide and crushes Danny against him in a pulverizing hug.

“Welcome home, kiddo!”

* * *

"Can't... Breathe," Danny chokes out, face pressed firmly into his father's shoulder. 

After far too long to remain on the right side of comfortable, Jack opens his arms and releases Danny, and he ducks away quickly, leaving Jazz to her own fate. Massaging his shoulder, he makes his way into the living room, stopping short when he sees Vlad on the couch. He narrows his eyes slightly, suspicious, but as far as he is aware the older Halfa has kept up his end of the truce and he has no reason to be hostile. Raising an eyebrow, he turns full toward Vlad to issue his own greeting but is stopped at the last minute by Maddie coming back into the living room with a small tray of coffee mugs, cream, and sugar. 

Before college, Danny hadn't really considered the beverage particularly important. Now, a good cup of coffee is worth ten times its weight in gold. 

Or something.

He rushes over to his mother and takes the tray. "Hey, Mom, thanks! I'll take this to the table." Maddie smiles down at him fondly, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

"Thanks, Sweetie," she says while giving him a gentle, one-armed hug so as to not disturb the drinks, before taking her own seat in one of the arm chairs. 

Danny busies himself with carefully placing the tray on the coffee table and passing out mugs. His father and sister have made their peace with the doorway and settled down into the other arm chair and end of the couch, respectively. Cradling his favorite blue NASA mug to his chest, he breathes the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and looks around. 

There's one seat left. 

Between Jazz and Vlad. 

Great. 

He sips carefully from the hot porcelain and picks his way past legs and feet to plop down gratefully on the plush middle seat. The room is quiet for a few moments as everyone settles into their drinks. 

It's nice to be home.

* * *

Vlad bites his tongue, willing himself to hold any remarks he might have otherwise said to the boy. Well, he couldn’t keep calling Daniel a _‘boy’_ , could he? He was an adult now, going to college and leaving this haunted old town behind. Though, he still looked quite the same-- all baggy jeans and band tees, messy hair, short stature. Vlad crosses his legs, giving Maddie a smile from over the brim of his own mug; no sugar, a splash of cream. Jack and Jasmine make their way over to the trio, and it almost feels normal. 

The way Daniel looked like he still didn’t trust him was par for the course, so. 

Definitely normal. 

He pretended to be interested in Jasmine’s head-first explanation of what the past few months have been like for her, nodding and smiling as politely as he can manage. Majoring in psychology was quite the course load, so it seems; or maybe it's just the redhead's natural tendency to drone on and on like this. It's… foreign, to be in this room with these people. Just this side of wrong, really. There are, Vlad has come to find out, things that are simply not meant for him in life; this is one of those things. 

He swallows down half of his mug in one go. 

“So, Daniel, how is your schooling going?” Vlad asks, resting his chin on his fist. "I don't believe you ever actually told me what it is you're majoring in."

* * *

Danny starts, inhaling a bit of his coffee and choking on it. He had been so focused on tuning out what Jazz was saying he has somehow forgotten Vlad was there. He flushed bright red as his family turned their eyes to him, watching him struggling to breathe for a moment. 

"You okay little brother?" Jazz questions, brows pinching in concern. Thumping his chest a few times and clearing his throat, he smiles at her. 

"Yeah, fine. I'm fine," he wheezes out, clearing his throat again before turning back to Vlad. Swallowing, he continues. "It's good. It's going good," he starts, looking away. "I ended up getting into the creative writing program. It's really small, everyone else is there for, like, animation and stuff. But it's fun. I guess. Mostly," he babbles for a moment, a little nervous being so put on the spot. 

He sets his mug down on the table, turning it afterwards to make sure the handle will be easy to grab when he picks it up. He's lucky he managed to even get in. Affording college on his own, or with just his parents wouldn't have been impossible, but there is no way his grades alone would have qualified him for anywhere but the local community college. He had Vlad to thank for that. He bites his lip for a moment before taking a deep breath, and turning back to the other halfa. 

"Thanks, again, for your help getting in," he admits, still awkwardly avoiding eye contact. "It's been a good. Environment. And stuff."

* * *

Seems that some things don't change. Daniel sputtering through his explanations is almost comforting, in the way that returning to your childhood home is. It's not quite the same, but there isn't any reason for them to revert back to being _'arch-enemies'_ . It sounds so very juvenile when he looks back on it now; fighting some teen _'hero'_ out of a misguided sense of righteousness. 

Vlad tightens his grip on his mug. He needs to stop thinking so hard. 

"Right," He says, as if he's surprised to hear that he contributed financially. He had forgotten. "It's no issue at all, little badger. I have _more_ than enough to take care of something so simple as tuition." 

Jack looks about ready to explode with an unspoken declaration Vlad can practically feel-- something along the lines of _'Oh, but are you sure you don't wanna go into the ghost-hunting business?'._

Thankfully, Maddie looks like she anticipates his outburst and butts in. "Any ideas about where you're going to apply your skills in the future, Danny?" she asks, her smile warm and calm.

* * *

Oh God. 

The Question. 

With a capital _"q"._

Danny sucks in a deep breath quickly, holds it for a moment, and lets it out slowly. "Well," he starts, licking his lip and glancing away from his mom. "Well, ideally, it would be cool if someday, I could like, work on a comic with someone. My art isn't bad, but not as cool as the guys in the illustration or animation programs." He pauses for a moment to clear his throat again. 

He's still a little piqued over his portfolio getting rejected, even if he still managed to get into the school overall. Or, more accurately, self conscious. _Embarrassed_. His writing professors like his work, at any rate. His mom smiles at him. He can't quite tell if she's just humoring him, or waiting for something else, but he's not sure what else to say. He looks around for a few moments uncomfortably before picking up his coffee again and sipping from it like a crutch. 

The single worst thing about being in college was all the adults asking him what he was trying to do with his life. Yikes. After swallowing down the rest of his coffee a little more quickly than he should, he remembers something else to add. 

"Oh, it's. Pretty nice being in the same town as Jazz." He smiles up at his sister, who softly smiles back. Internally he complains for a moment about having to look _"up"_ at everyone, but files that away to be angsty about later. 

"Awww, Danny!" she exclaims, crowding into his space for a moment to lean her head on his affectionately. 

"Buzz off, Jazz," he complains good-naturedly, gently shoving her away as they both laugh. "No but really, it's kinda weird being so far away from everything you know, so it's nice to have. That. At least, ya know?" He trails off for a moment, thoughtful, before looking up at his mom, and then to his dad. 

His smile grows a bit mischievous. "Did you guys know Massachusetts was the most haunted state in America _before_ Jazz and I went to college there? Is that why you were okay with us going so far away?"

* * *

Whether Maddie had been vying for more answers or not, the energy in the room was effectively shifted towards a more light-hearted, humorous debate on the actual Most Haunted State, which the Fentons seemed to be treating as a kind of medal of honor. Maddie had set her mug down as she leaned forward, animatedly discussing if the number of ghosts in Massachusetts was ever going to stagnate, or if it was a hot center for ghost gatherings-- Sometimes it's easy to forget not everyone in the room has spent extensive time cataloguing the Ghost Zone. 

Vlad pipes in here or there with statistics, with rumors of sightings new and old, keeping pace easily with Jack as he delves into the details of the most grisly ghosts in that area. 

"You've been stuck on that _Route 44_ ghost for decades, Jack! There has to be a more interesting ghost to think about. He's not even the most frightening specter on the east coast." 

"What's scarier than some lumberjack hitching a ride and scaring you?" Jack says, not a hint of irony to his tone. 

"...any of the ghost sightings _here_ , maybe?" Jasmine says, bored now that the conversation has fully turned from education to ghosts. Shaking her head, Maddie stands up from her spot, picking up empty mugs and making her way into the kitchen. 

"Decide what you kids want for dinner!" she calls over her shoulder. 

Was it that late already? Vlad checks his watch, noting the late hour. He doesn't want to stay longer than strictly necessary. Not that he has anything in particular to do, but he doesn't feel like testing the boundaries of the truce tonight. "I should be heading out."

* * *

"What, leaving so soon Old Man?," Danny snarks, whip fast and almost without thought. "Is it past your bed time?" 

Internally, Danny immediately begins cursing frantically. _'Oh fuck, oh my God, I didn't mean to say that. Why am I asking him to stay?'_ He pauses in his sudden frantic concern before it gets too far away from him. _'Wait, we have a truce, it's fine, actually. This is fine.'_

Looking over at Vlad, Danny smirks, and before the man can answer he stands up and wanders into the kitchen after his mother. He has absolutely no idea what he might want to eat, as long as there is a lot of it, and he can go immediately to bed after. He has plans with Tuck and Sam tomorrow.

* * *

"My bedti--" Vlad's teeth click together as he watches Daniel practically mock him with his walk. _'What's his game this time?'_

It couldn't be that the young man actually wanted him to stay and spend time with all of them... right? 

That'd be absurd. 

Maybe it's a clause of the truce that Daniel is allowed to make new requirements to be met, and this is what he gets for not getting an official document written and notarized for it. 

Brushing off his lap of invisible dust, he follows the two Fenton children into the kitchen, lingering in the archway. "Didn't know you needed me to supervise your meals, Daniel." He crosses his arms, leaning. "Should I get your bib, as well?"

* * *

Danny turns from his spot near the fridge to look Vlad in the eye. 

"At the rate we're going, you're closer to needing a bib than I am," he states, raising one eyebrows and smirking. He folds his arms across his chest and leans against the fridge, searching for meal ideas forgotten in lieu of verbally sparring with his favorite nemesis. "Did you reserve your space in the nursing home yet? Or are you gonna hire a personal assistant to spoon feed you past your dentures?" 

At that, he can't help but slowly look over Vlad. In all honesty, his own parents are far closer to needing a nursing home than Vlad is. They aren't exactly senior citizens yet, but thinking about it, Maddie doesn't dart around quite as enthusiastically as she did when he was in high school. Jack is still full of exuberance, but what was once greying temples seems to have reached most of his head. And they're both a little softer than he remembers them being. 

Vlad, on the other hand, hasn't changed a bit. Still tall, still barrel chested, and he doesn't even have crow's feet. Hell, even some of his classmates already have crow's feet. 

_'Rich people,'_ he snorts to himself.

* * *

Oh, he. 

He _missed_ this. 

It was almost like bantering with him mid-fight, like the bitter barbs and mocking snark that he'd grown accustomed to all those years ago. He felt his lips curl into a little smirk, unable to completely help himself. If he wanted to trade hits like this, who was Vlad to deny him? 

"It's so flattering to know you're thinking of my health, little badger." Vlad hums, walking further into the room to stand just this side of too close to the young man. 

Though, now that he's looking up close, Daniel never seemed to lose that baby fat that still clings to his cheeks. Shouldn't that have given way for a more angular face?

_'Youth,'_ he thinks. 

"But don't be too caught up that I must choose a professional to look after me, as endearing as your concern is."

* * *

As Vlad enters his space, Danny feels himself instinctually attempting to be intimidating despite the lack of genuine threat. Because, really, it's all just words. Abrasive words, as familiar and cathartic as flying the last half mile home after fifteen hours in a car, but words nonetheless. Preparing to fire back, Danny startles as his mother clears her throat from the other side of the kitchen. 

He flushes bright red immediately. He'd forgotten they had an audience. 

Stumbling in his rush to step away from Vlad and focus back on the task at hand, he quietly mutters under his breath, so only the other half can hear. 

"You wish, Old Man," just barely escapes his mouth as he turns and bends over to rummage through the vegetable drawers in the bottom of the fridge. He manages to pull out an onion and some tomatoes, searching along the upper shelf for- yes! There it is. Sliding out a package of ground beef as well, he turns to his mom. 

"How about spaghetti? Do we have sauce in the cabinet?" She immediately turns around and finds several jars of sauce and a package of noodles. 

"That's a great idea sweetie!" she exclaims, pulling out the rest of the ingredients and beginning to rummage around for the necessary pots and pans. "Now why don't you set the table while I finish cooking, and then join everyone back in the living room. I'm sure there's something on TV you can agree on..." She trails off at the end, focused on her task. 

Danny subtly avoids looking at Vlad again and he busies himself with his task, mentally willing himself not to fluster too obviously before he can get a chance to formulate a proper response. Maybe he can somehow spill sauce on his bright, white shirt...

* * *

The brief power rush he usually gets from antagonizing Daniel comes and goes much faster than it used to, and to say he's disappointed is an understatement. He barely restrains himself from scowling, glancing over to where Maddie is giving him a curious and halfway distrustful look. Not entirely unwarranted, but he still feels the sting as if she'd slapped him. 

"I'm sure we can find something to entertain everyone," he says agreeably, hands up in a placating gesture. 

He leans back against the counter, letting Daniel go without a word, but he clicks his tongue at the boy's cheek. If he was just as immature as he had been before college, Vlad doesn't want to be on the receiving end of an ill-thought prank. Some things don't change, and he's happy for it. 

No, _happy_... isn't the right word. 

He mulls the thought of being agreeable with the Fentons around in his head, excusing himself from the room and making himself scarce on the couch. Jack is getting his ear talked off by Jasmine, her chattering grating and a touch loud. If he pitied the man, he might've offered him an out, but as it was Vlad is content to watch the other man squirm as his daughter talks a mile a minute.


	2. When did our problems get so small?

Setting the table is mindless. So mindless, Danny finds his thoughts drifting all over the place, sometimes edging towards places he would rather it not go. Not tonight at least. He must be way more tired than he thought, because he almost feels prone to moping now that Vlad has left the room. __

_ 'I'm being ridiculous,' _ he thinks, sighing softly and glancing towards the open doorway that leads to the living room. _ 'I just miss everyone. I haven't seen them in nearly a year. Mass is too far for the shorter breaks, and Tucker and Sam went on family trips during winter break. Snap out of it, Fenton.'  _

Once he's finished with his task, the table perfectly laid out for five water glasses and all, Danny finds it difficult to pull himself out of his thoughts and walk away. Reaching forward to straighten a fork for the third time, he sighs again and shakes his head, dispelling the weird mood he feels encumbered with. Brushing his palms against his jeans, he glances at his mom to see that she's still cooking away, not paying him any mind, so he heads over to everyone else. 

* * *

Vlad had contented himself to checking his stocks on his phone between watching Jasmine verbally assault her father; though to Jack's credit, he did at least try to keep up. It was funny, really, but Vlad couldn't think of a good excuse if he'd actually laughed aloud, so he keeps it to himself and scrolls wordlessly on his phone. 

It's only when Daniel re-enters the room that he perks up just a little bit-- and stretches his legs out to make it more inconvenient for Daniel to squeeze past him. He's about to make a quip about Daniel's inability to set the table in a timely manner, but there's this strange look on the young man's face that's making him curious. 

* * *

Jazz and his Dad are locked in conversation and he doesn't feel quite up to interrupting, so he works his way back to his seat from before from the other side, squeezing past Vlad's knees instead of his sister's. He doesn't think twice before rooting around for the TV remote and beginning to surf through the channels, not really paying attention to what's on the screen.

* * *

_ 'What reason could he possibly have to make such a dour expression?' _ He thinks, setting his cell on the armrest. It's the kind of look Vlad himself had worn for years; distant, dissociative. He taps his knee against Daniel's and quirks his brow. 

"You look as if you had therapy with Spectra." He pitches his voice low, only loud enough for the boy next to him to hear.

* * *

"Hu-What?" Danny mumbles eloquently, pausing his surfing on some program trying to sell some junky product that nobody would actually use. He takes a moment to process what Vlad actually said before snorting into his hand. "No. God, no. Nooooo," he groans.

"Not that you actually care, but I'm just. Tired." He pauses for a moment, thoughtful. "And a little restless. You would be too cooped up in a car for 2 days. It's hard to," he pauses again, but for dramatic effect. "Stretch your legs, ya know?" He waggled his eyebrows to drive home his intent. 

* * *

Vlad did not resist the urge to roll his eyes. That showed  _ him  _ to express even a smidgen of concern for his former enemy. Car trips would make anyone exhausted, but it's still unsettling to see how easy it was for Daniel to completely zone out like that. The cartoon on the television isn't obnoxious enough to be distracting, thankfully, but it does provide enough background noise that their conversation could be somewhat more private. 

* * *

Glancing back to the TV, he flips through a few more channels before stopping on some mindless cartoon. Dinner will probably be done in a few minutes, so there really isn't enough time to get settled into a more compelling story, but the noise is nice. He looks to the side without turning to face Vlad, but enough to watch him.  _ 'He's been civil enough so far,' _ he thinks. 

"You been up to anything since I've been gone?” 

* * *

"Ah, just more of the same." Vlad hides the surprise in his tone. "City planning, inventing and improving upon the technologies of VladCo.," he waves his hand, nonchalant. It all melded together for him in his memories. "Researching new ways to utilize ectoplasm. Nothing nefarious, I'm afraid." 

Without thought, he brings his arm down along the back of the couch, behind Daniel's head.

* * *

"Sounds boring," Danny mumbles, unconsciously leaning forward with his chin on his hand and elbow on his knee. 

He stares at the TV without processing anything he's seeing for a few minutes before rubbing his eyes and covering his mouth for a yawn. After half a beat, he goes to lean back against the couch. He squirms for a moment, adjusting his position so his neck lays more comfortably against the weirdly stiff headrest. He could maybe sleep for a few minutes here, like this. 

Or just. Rest his eyes. Dinner will be ready soon...

* * *

"Terribly boring work, indeed." Vlad nods slightly, re-crossing his legs and angling his body more towards Daniel. 

The poor boy looks like he's on the verge of passing out, and Vlad is surprised to see how he's not whining about wanting to hurry up and eat so he can go to bed. Only once the back of Daniel's head is resting on his forearm does Vlad snap out of the strange daze he always finds himself in when he looks too long at the other halfa. He looks down, incredulous, not too sure what to do. It was... cute, almost. 

A sharp clearing of the throat from the kitchen and a quick  _ (if sharp) _ "Dinner!" snaps him back into his own body. Gently, he nudges the back of Daniel's head, slipping his arm out from underneath him. 

"You heard your mother," Vlad adjusts his cufflinks. "Time to eat."

* * *

Danny jerks, sitting bolt upright for a moment, blinking, before processing what happened as Jazz and his dad head to the kitchen. He stands up and stretches out his limbs, sliding his hand under his shirt to scratch as his stomach before clambering out from behind the table. He can't believe he nearly fell asleep. Next to Vlad. Talk about getting comfortable with the enemy. 

Danny glances over at the older man before making his way towards the kitchen, pausing for a moment in the doorway to breath in the heavenly aroma of garlic, tomato, and meat sauce. 

"Oh man, I missed your homemade spaghetti so much," he announces as he fully crosses the threshold. 

He takes the seat next to his dad and the open setting, quickly arranging his napkin and waiting as patiently as an eighteen year old growing boy can for his turn to serve himself. Maddie even made a lovely, crusty, buttery garlic bread to go with it. She had to be psychic or something. Nobody just happens to have garlic bread on hand for no reason. 

_ 'Well,'  _ he thinks, glancing up at his dad, who has an entire half a loaf sitting on his plate.  _ 'Maybe there is a reason.' _

* * *

To say that he had missed eating what someone else had cooked was an understatement. There's something about sitting at a small table, touching elbows with others, that leaves him feeling a distinct sense of longing for something he can't have. The food smelled amazing, not that he expected anything different from Maddie. She was truly a wonder, a marvel-- but he kept his mouth shut as he removed his suit jacket, resting it over the back of his chair. 

"Thank you so very much for the meal, Madeline." He smiles, rolling up his sleeves and waiting for his turn to serve himself. 

He was last, but that's fine by him. Eating was often perfunctory for him these days, more just to keep his mind from shorting out than out of a real sense of hunger. This felt like  _ indulgence _ , in a sense. Not that there was anything particularly decadent about shelf-stable pasta and canned sauce, mind, but it was more about the fact that he was allowed to be here at all.

* * *

Maddie spared Vlad a small smile, though her brows held a pinch of wariness that would probably never fully go away, as she began to tuck into her own plate. Jack paused his own eating to reach over Danny and slap Vlad across the back. 

"'Course, V-man," he grinned, enthusiastic as always. "You're always welcome to a Fenton Family Dinner. You're like family!" He reached up to wipe a nonexistent tear as he snuffled, before taking another heaping bite. 

Danny took a metaphorical back seat to the exchange, but that was mostly because he had been busy shoveling spaghetti down his throat at a nearly rabid pace. This was so much better than cafeteria food, and that was pretty much all he'd really had for months. Glancing around, he felt a sense of belonging wash over him, and realized perhaps his sudden melancholia from earlier was just his subconscious rebelling that he hadn't had this in so long. 

Even if Vlad was there. 

Maybe that wasn't so bad.

* * *

God, how he wished Jack knew his own strength. The force of that smack bent him forwards, his hands gripping onto the edge of the table to prevent himself from face planting into his meal. It seems that regardless of how old Jack gets, his strength doesn't really waver, if the rattle his ribcage gave was any indication. Burying the scathing words he wanted to scream at the man, he instead forced a short laugh. 

This was almost certainly a mistake. 

"One of these days you'll break my back with those hands, Jack." Vlad says with a sigh, digging into the spaghetti politely. Delicious, just as expected. A glance around the table revealed much less boisterous talking than he'd experienced the handful of other times he'd eaten dinner here, but it seemed everyone was lost in their thoughts, or perhaps just comfortable enough to not need to fill the air with pointless chatter. 

That bitter feeling rises in his throat again, but he washes it away with a swig of water.

* * *

Danny smirked into his forkful of pasta, quickly reaching for his own glass of water to help hide the snort that threatened to erupt. He made eye contact with Jazz across the table as she daintily pat her mouth with her napkin to hide her own amusement. Their dad really didn't have a clue. 

* * *

Jack had  _ (unsuccessfully)  _ attempted to drag Vlad into a conversation about ghost hunting a few times with no luck, and once everyone started to get a little restless, Vlad's mind began to wander. If he started home soon, he could check on the samples he'd been testing in his lab, or start work on getting the zoning and catering done for the annual summer festival in Amity Park. He politely stacked his plate and cutlery, lost in thought.

* * *

For now, everyone was mostly content to sit and enjoy their food, but as plates began to clear and the rest of the garlic bread was reduced to crumbs, the energy level was tangibly rising. Jazz started chatting with Maddie about some philosophical theory that went right over Danny's head, and Jack periodically popped in between bites to interject some half relevant comment to try and make it about ghosts. Thankfully both Jazz and Maddie were skilled at redirecting back to what they were talking about. 

Danny watched his family fondly, swirling his fork through his last bite of spaghetti on his plate, content to soak in the atmosphere. As soon as he pops it in his mouth, however, Maddie shoots up from her seat and startles him into dropping his fork. 

"Thats right!" she exclaims, with excitement, before turning and rushing back towards the fridge. With everyone's attention on her, she begins rummaging through the freezer, calling out behind her. 

"Jack, honey, can you clear the table?" 

"Righto, sweetcheeks!" he responds, standing abruptly and gathering plates. 

Danny graciously offers his own up for grabs, and sits back in his chair clutching his half empty water glass to his chest. 

And has an idea. 

"Actually, Dad," he announces, a breath of mischief sneaking into his tone as he slides his chair back to stand. "Why don't I help you with that?" 

"Have at it, Danno!" his dad replies, taking the handful of plates he'd gathered over to the sink. 

* * *

What kind of entertainers should he call in? If Daniel was going to be home for the festival, then maybe it was prudent to ask his opinions on the matter-- he was, after all, part of the  _ 'youth' _ . He's only shocked out of his thoughts at Jack's over-the-top declarations, practically feeling it in his bones. He barely conceals a scowl behind his napkin, brows furrowing.

* * *

Danny grabs the last two plates and starts piling their water glasses on top all in varying degrees of half full, circling back to his own seat and water. He's  _ sure  _ he can trip on his share smoothly enough no one will notice it's on purpose.

* * *

As if in slow motion, he watches Daniel stack a bunch of plates and glasses as precariously as he dared, and was about to berate him off-handedly about biting off more than he can chew. Well. He would have, if on the way over Daniel hadn't  _ 'tripped' _ , sending the plates and glasses cascading down onto Vlad. He barely remembered not to turn intangible, and caught a majority of the plates and cups against his chest. Undoubtedly, the red sauce would stain his button up. 

Shooting a glare up towards him, he clicks his tongue. "Really, Daniel?"

* * *

Both Maddie and Jazz look over at the chaos, the former with alarm and the latter particularly unimpressed. 

"Oh no," Danny exclaims, practically dripping sarcasm. "I am so sorry Uncle Vlad. Here, let me get you a towel." He stands and reaches for the stack of dishware, the glasses of water still perched on top, miraculously unspilled.

* * *

If anyone else noticed his faux concern, they didn't say anything. He held up a hand, scooting out of his seat and pinning Daniel with an unimpressed stare. 

"That's quite alright, my boy. I should be heading out anyway-- I don't want this to stain." He could hear Jack make a whining, obtusely upset noise from somewhere behind him. 

He didn't have to sit here and put up with this, truce or not.

* * *

"Oh, nonsense," Maddie claims, leaving her station at the freezer prize firmly in hand. "If you don't start blotting that out right now, it really will stain. Jazz, be a dear and run upstairs to the linen closet? I'm pretty sure we've got a stain remover there somewhere..." She places the frozen parcel down on the table before turning to grabbing the dishes from Danny and heading into the kitchen. "Lemme just go get the dessert ware, now, you boys sit back down." 

* * *

Well. As if he could deny Maddie if she wanted him to stay. 

A strange thought in and of itself, really. 

With a sigh, Vlad unbuttons the poor dress shirt, leaving him in just the plain t-shirt he wore underneath. Luckily, the sauce hadn't seeped so deep that it was stained as well. It did leave him feeling strange and bare, though, to have the majority of his arms out instead of tightly restrained within a suit. Vlad sits across from Daniel, raising a questioning brow. If he was trying to get a rise out of him, it was working, and the older man was more than a little irritated. 

* * *

Feeling suitably chastised, Danny awkwardly sits back down, and watches as Jazz leaves the room and his parents finish washing the dishes. There's an ice cream cake on the table, plastic cover slowly frosting over with fog from the warm kitchen air. 

"Aww. I love ice cream cake," he mumbles, glancing over.

* * *

He can't remember ever actually eating an ice cream cake before-- he had acquired a rather expensive taste since his youthful escapades and thieveries. Jasmine eventually came back down with a spray bottle of  _ Oxiclean _ , handing it over to Vlad with the most bored expression he's ever seen on her. With a roll of his eyes, he steps over to the counters, spraying the cleaner onto the offending red blotches on the button up. 

When he got back to his seat, Maddie was already slicing into the cake.

* * *

Once everyone was seated again, cake slices plated and being munched, Maddie cleared her throat to speak up again. She deliberately made eye contact with both Jazz and Danny, the latter of whom flushed and looked back to his cake, before smiling warmly. 

"Your father and I wanted to get something a little extra special for you two, to let you know how proud of you we are," she announces, growing a little misty eyed. "You're both in college now. Danny, you've been away a whole year." She chokes up a little. "My babies are growing up so fast." She fans herself and sniffles, and leans over to kiss Danny's cheek, and walk over to Jazz to kiss hers too. 

Both  _ ‘young adults’  _ self consciously wipe their cheeks, but they're also smiling. Proud. The cake tastes even sweeter to Danny as he feels himself getting a little misty eyed himself. 

"Come on, Mom," he complains, setting his fork down on an empty plate. "It's not that big a deal. It's only year one, we both still have a long way to go." 

She sniffles again. "You're right, but we can't help being a little mushy about it," she says with a smile.

* * *

It was a heartwarming scene. Just a family, proud of their children for entering adulthood and moving to greater heights. The cake was nearly saccharine, far beyond the level of sweets he normally consumed for dessert. It was sweet to see just how starry-eyed all of them still were, even through the roughest years of their lives. Vlad felt distinctly out of place here, sitting amongst people he had considered his greatest enemies and obstacles in his pursuit of selfish happiness. 

"Still, it's a monument in and of itself to attend college," Vlad smiled. "You should be proud of yourselves." Jack nodded along, sniffling, shoveling cake into his mouth before it could melt.

* * *

Danny self consciously rubbed along the back of his neck. He averted his eyes, but the flush on his face was still prominent. 

"Aw geez, are you guys gonna be this sappy every summer?" he complained, though it was evident in his tone he didn't really mean any ill will. "Look, even Vlad is gonna cry," he jokes, before stifling a small yawn. 

He should probably head to bed. It really is getting late now, and not only does he have plans in the morning, he still has to get all his stuff out of Jazz's car tomorrow too. That'll be exhausting. He covers another small yawn just thinking about how much work it's gonna be.

* * *

Rolling his eyes, Vlad chuckles. It was now  _ actually  _ late, and he took a glance at his watch again, tsk-ing lightly and wiping his mouth with a napkin. 

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," He says, more pointedly towards Maddie than anyone else in the room. "I can see I'm not the only tired person at the table, and I really must get back to my estate." 

Jack groaned, pouting towards him as if he had any sway over his decision. 

"But V-Man, we haven't even gotten to the best part of the new Fenton Wrangler!" 

"Some other time, Jack." 

Vlad picks up his dishes, depositing them in the sink and taking a look at his shirt. It should be fine once he gets it in the wash back home. Tucking it under his arm, he lifts his coat off the back of his seat. 

"Once again, welcome home, Daniel, Jasmine. It was a pleasure to see you both."

* * *

"Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Masters," Jazz, ever the polite one, pipes up, looking past him slightly to squint at her brother. He stands up a little too quickly. 

"Yeah, uh, thanks, Vlad," he stutters, forcing a pleasant smile on his face. Watching the man tuck his spoiler shirt beneath his arm, he can't help but feel a little extra pride at the successful prank. "It was good to see you."    


Maddie walked over to stand with Jack near the doorway, seeing their friend out to the curb as their children stayed behind to put away the dishes and store the remainder of the cake. It was a little wobbly for having stayed on the table so long. Jazz looked over her baby brother, watching as he lifted up on his tiptoes to squeeze the cake on the top shelf of the freezer, quietly struggling. 

She was still taller than him. 

He manages to get the cake in before long, so she doesn't offer to help, just quietly washes the dishes instead.

* * *

Jack, per usual, crushed him against his side in a hug. Vlad pats his arm when he feels faint, prompting the gargantuan man to release his death-grip on Vlad's more slim frame. 

"Honestly Jack!" The man laughs and rubs the back of his neck, and Vlad rolls his eyes, offering Maddie his hand to shake. 

"Don't be a stranger," she says, but her tight expression indicated it was a formality. With a terse nod, he pulls out his phone, waiting a handful of moments before his chauffeur pulls up along the curb. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night, and he wasn't often wrong about the swing of his emotions. 

As soon as he got back to his estate, his pleasant mood took a nosedive. 

_ 'Who does that little brat think he is?' _ He tosses his button up into the washer, sets it to go on cold. He can't get down to the lab fast enough, phasing right through the ground and clenching his fists. _ 'I was making an  _ **_effort_ ** _ and he had to just!'  _ Pinching the bridge of his nose, Vlad pulls up a chair and sets to examining his samples. _ 'Ugh. Was that boy ever going to grow up?' _

* * *

In the Fenton's kitchen, Jack and Maddie both say goodnight to their children before heading upstairs to their bedroom. Jazz turns to Danny, but he barely notices, rubbing his palm down his face and groaning. 

"You really shouldn't behave like that," she scolds anyways. "You're an adult now Danny, you should act more like it." 

Danny lifts his palm to look his sister in the eye. "I know," he admits, shrugging a shoulder. "I just can't help it with him sometimes." 

He really can't. Something about the older man rubs on his nerves until he has to do something to bring about the man's ire. Maybe it's just an innate sense of immaturity he hasn't quite grown out of yet. 

"If he bothers you that much, maybe you should, ya know, tell Mom and Dad about it," she tries, resting her hand on his scrawny shoulder. He really hasn't put on much muscle either. Biting her lip, she keeps her full thoughts to herself. He'll talk to her when he's ready. Sighing, Danny shrugs off his sister's hand and leans again the railing that leads upstairs. 

"It's not that simple, Jazz." 

"I know, Danny, but I worry. What are they gonna say when they find out you've been keeping this a secret from them for almost 5 years?" 

He sighs again, harder. He knows the longer he puts it off, the worse it gets, but he still can't bring himself to have that conversation. _ 'Oh yeah, Mom? Dad? Remember back when you built that ghost portal but it didn't work? And then suddenly it did? Well, funny story, I guess you forgot to hit the switch or something, because I went inside and came back out half ghost! Wild story right?' _

Nobody wanted to hear that. He doubted they would even believe him. 

Running his hand through his bangs, he sighs a third time, and decides he's had enough angst for the evening. "I'm gonna head to bed," he says, lips drawn into a firm line. "I should probably get up early enough to get my stuff outta your car before going to see Tucker and Sam." 

She smiles softly. "Good night, little brother."


	3. Just add water, let me go.

The violent, repetitive vibrations that can only come from a cell phone alarm clock echo through Danny’s pillow directly into his brain. For a moment, he forgets where he is, and is tempted to call for his roommate to answer. After groaning loudly, he reaches his hand beneath his pillow in an attempt to silence the burgeoning headache slowly forming behind his eyes. As he scrambles to catch his slowly migrating phone, he realizes in bits and pieces exactly where he is. This realization is helped along when his hand travels much further than his dorm’s economy twin mattress would have allowed.

Peeling open his eyes past the cling of sleep, Danny looks around his bedroom. It’s exactly as he left it, albeit a little cleaner. As he finally dismisses the alarm, he looks around the familiar space. The walls are devoid of his favorite posters, only a few remaining since he had brought most of them with him to his college dorm. His room feels almost empty, spacious in comparison to the cramped double dorm he was used to sleeping in. Turning back to his phone, he quickly enables his Wi-Fi before shuffling out of bed and into his slippers to trudge across the hall to the bathroom.

Only a few minutes later, he’s gone through all his social media notifications to his satisfaction and managed his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where his mother sits at the table, reading something while sipping a steaming cup of coffee. As Danny approaches, she looks up from her reading, and takes a sip of her coffee before setting it down

“Morning, Sweetie,” she calls, smiling warmly. “The pot just finished brewing, I can get you a cup.” 

He notices the crinkles at the corners of her eyes, the faint pucker of smile lines across her upper lip. Objectively, she’s still a beautiful woman, but the sense of mortality still hits him like a ton of bricks. He snaps from his thoughts as she makes to stand.

“No, Mom, it’s okay,” he assures her, palms facing outward in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry about it, I know where the sugar is.” Danny laughs softly, not really feeling it as much as he should. 

Since when is he bothered by his mom getting old? 

Everyone gets old. He’s an adult now! 

He’s used to it.

“Alright then, Honey. I’ll leave it to you,” his mom says, settling back down in her seat and turning back to her reading. 

It was the newest issue of that Genius magazine she almost got interviewed for years ago. He wonders if she’ll ever get the chance again as he pulls down a mug from the cabinet and spoons in a little too much sugar. Pouring in the steaming, savory nectar of the gods, he pauses and breathes in the delicious, earthy aroma. After replacing the pot and stirring in the cream, he makes his way over to sit at the table with his mother. They don’t talk, but she acknowledges his company with a smile, and he scrolls his phone aimlessly for a few moments while she reads her article.

Once his mug is empty, he brings it back to the sink and rinses it out. For a moment, he wonders where his dad is, before a large crash from the basement echoes through the room. Startled, he looks over and makes eye contact with his mother, who also stopped what she was doing at the noise.

“Well. You know how your father is,” she shrugs before setting down her magazine and knocking back the last dregs of her coffee and heading towards the staircase. 

Danny shrugs as she passes and makes his way back to his room to get ready for the day. It shouldn’t take exceptionally long to bring all his stuff inside, and once he’s finished he can head out to see his friends. He’s missed them.

Jeans up, sneakers tied, and tee shirt tossed haphazardly over his head, and he is back down the stairs, looking for Jazz’s keys so he can unlock her car and get his things. He checks the little dish beside the door they set out for keys after his father kept losing them, and his set is missing. Shrugging, he checks her jacket pockets. Nope. After pausing for a moment to even check his own jacket, he realizes they’re not here, because Jazz isn’t here. 

He peeks out the window and – yep, her car is gone.

“Damn it,” he curses to himself. He had hoped to get his stuff before she went out for the day, but it seems his alarm was for naught; she always was an early riser. Sighing, he gives in to the inability to be productive now and pulls out his phone to give Tucker and Sam a call. He opens their group chat and sees that they’re both online, so he shoots them a message to see if they’re down to hang earlier.

The response is immediate. Both Tucker and Sam are free and already eager to get out of the house, so they decide to meetup at the nearby park and catch up on their year apart until the Nasty Burger opens and they can all get lunch. Danny pockets his phone, digs around in his jacket for his wallet before pocketing that too, and jogs over to the basement stairs.

“Mom, Dad, I’m heading out to meet Sam and Tuck!” he calls down from the top. A few rustling noises echo up the stairs before he hears a response.

“Okay Sweetie! Just don’t be out too late, that ghost kid popped back up on the radar again!” his mom calls from the bowels of the basement. Rolling his eyes, he sighs softly.

“Sure Mom! No worries, I’ll be home!” he responds before turning tail and heading out the front door, carefully locking it behind him. He’ll definitely tell them. 

Eventually. 

Somehow.

* * *

Vlad's night was a long, lonely thing. 

There was no cat to greet him, no ghosts to pummel into dust. Just him and his research, his cold lab, his empty home. More of the same, but it felt more enclosed this night. Like the world was condensing around him, suffocating, smothering. He rubs his eyes, his temples, begs his brain to stop spiraling out of control. Something was setting him on edge, but he couldn't put a name to that feeling, and it made the synapses in his brain fire faster than before. 

He felt useless here, in this cold metal room. Like there are things he's missing, although for the life  _ (ha) _ of him, he can't figure out what. Maybe it was the old need to cause trouble, to distract himself with destruction and vengeance, needling his thoughts. It was more likely that he was just tired, but Vlad prided himself on his long nights and even longer days. Tonight, however, he just felt hollow. 

He hunches his shoulders in, doubling down until he loses sense of time; of his own body. 

Coming to in the morning to a blaring alarm isn't his idea of a good start. He drags his hands down his face, detaching papers that had stuck to his skin while he slept. It was an hour past six, much later than he likes to start his mornings; he floats upwards towards his bathroom, determined to wash away his foul mood. Even though he takes a steaming hot shower, it still feels lukewarm to him; a consequence of his blaring-hot core. 

Not for the first time, he wishes he could properly feel the heat so he might, at least, relieve the tension that sits along his shoulders. He takes a few moments to brush his teeth, his hair; pulling wet strands back into his customary ponytail. He moisturizes and manages to plaster a false face of peaceful calm onto his face, surfacing to eat a quick breakfast before driving over to the office to start a day of paperwork.

He holds his coffee mug to his lips at his desk, filtering through the countless e-mails he'd have to eventually answer. Logo changes to the former Axion Labs were in, and he'd have to review them before settling for his new one for that subsidiary of VladCo. Recommendations from his employees poured in for musical guests at the festival this year, but if he could pick out the names clearly, they were considering too many old faces. New housing permits were brought to his attention by his secretary, and he thanked her before signing off on a few he hadn't even read. 

What was the point of this, again? 

He'd become mayor to be closer to the Fentons, back when foiling their marriage was still a prominent figure in his mind. Now, it was more or less a practice in appearances and endurance. How long could he coddle an entire city before the monotony drove him mad? He's got a few years behind him in mayoral status, but it still makes him long for his Wisconsin mansion and the open diary fields. Fresh air, the scent of pine needles, gourmet cheeses. 

"Mr. Masters?" his secretary calls him. "You have a call on line two. Something about the local restaurants you asked to cater?" 

"Thank you," He says, distracted, picking up the landline and tucking it against his shoulder. "Mayor Masters speaking." 

The call couldn't have lasted more than an hour, but it easily felt triple that. At the end of it all, he agreed to pay handsomely for the most popular locally-run dining establishments to cater to the event, and hung up with a headache starting just behind his left eye. With the majority of the day's work behind him, Vlad rests his head in his hands, backlit by the too-large window behind his desk. 

_ 'Perhaps it was time to resign,'  _ he thought.  _ 'Maybe I'm too old for this.'  _ Though, he didn't feel particularly old in body. Just in mind. 

There was, after all, such things as putting too many eggs in one basket, and he's been called a basket case  _ extensively _ .

* * *

The heat of the sun bearing down on Danny is nearly overwhelming, and he finds himself wishing he wore shorts if he was going to be outside. It's not quite summer yet, college gets out before school does, but it's still warm enough to leave him feeling just a little stir crazy, eager to run around and be free. Admittedly, that could also be the lack of schoolwork to worry about for almost 4 months he was looking ahead to. He finds himself jogging on the sidewalk towards the park, unable to keep his energy from releasing just a little bit. In his haste, he nearly crashes into an elderly pedestrian out with his dog.

"Watch it, kid," the senior lectures, gesturing to Danny with his cane. "Aren't you supposed to be in school? It's a Monday." 

Confused for a moment, Danny pauses.

"I'm eighteen, I'm already out of high school," he says, put off. He doesn't think he looks  _ that  _ young, does he? The old man squints, leaning forward for a moment before scoffing.

"Whatever, it's none of my business if you're skipping school. Just don't run anybody over." Danny frowns.

"I literally just got home from college."

"I don't need to hear your excuses, kid! Buzz off." The old man slowly hobbles away, tiny dog yipping along in tow.

Scowling, Danny turns back the direction he was heading, spotting the vague silhouette of his friends in the distance. He'd recognize that red beanie and high ponytail anywhere. He speeds his pace up just a notch, approaching the pair quickly.

“Tucker! Sam!” he calls out, to get their attention. 

They both whip around to face him.

“Danny!” they yell in unison, rushing forward to smother their friend in platonic affection. 

This is what he missed. The people he’s met at school haven’t exactly been unfriendly, but he doesn’t think he will ever have a friendship as close and important as what he shared with these two. The group hug lasts longer than any one of them is willing to admit, but eventually they have to part so they can get to the real meat of today’s hangout. Danny steps back first, but the other two take a step back as well, so they can all look each other in the eye.

Mostly.

Danny realizes with a start that he has to look up. 

For both of them. 

_ ’Growth spurt much?’ _

By the end of high school, Tucker had maybe an inch on Danny, but he and Sam had still stood eye to eye. Not anymore, apparently. After a beat of silence, Sam folds her arms across her chest comfortably.

“So! How has school been? Meet anyone cool? Go on any wild adventures?” she asks them both. Tucker immediately brightens.

“Oh man! You have no idea!” he exclaims. 

While that’s not exactly true-- the trio have kept in close contact via messaging and video calls-- it’s still fresh and new to hear in person. To  _ see _ . Tucker rolls up the sleeve of a brand new  _ ‘Class of’ _ tee shirt, stretches his arm and flexes. There’s an actual,  _ visible  _ muscle.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding, huh?” Danny remarks, eyebrows raised. 

A few months back, just after the start of the first semester, Tucker had bumped into a couple of bigger dudes on campus. At first, he feared for his life, but it turns out he had unintentionally walked into the middle of the underclassmen club fair, and the two older guys actually belonged to a  _ ‘Tech Fitness’ _ extracurricular that focused on utilizing cutting edge science and technology to improve the human body. He had started seriously bulking up, but that wasn’t as obvious through a shitty webcam. 

Sam lets out a low, long whistle.

_ “Damn, _ Tuck, I’m actually impressed,” she states, eyeing the gentle swell.

“I know, right?” he brags, rolling his sleeve back down and grinning. 

Danny looks him over again. It wasn’t just working out and building muscle, either. He was thicker all around. Back in freshman year, the three of them were all small enough to fit into the same shirts, pants, everything. Now, Danny thinks you could fit two of him in Tucker’s pants. He immediately flushes at the thought. Sam notices the reaction, and turns to Danny, her brows pinched in concern. Tucker follows his gaze, and his smile shrinks to a teasing smirk.

“Muscle isn’t everything, Danny,” she reassures him, uncrossing her arms and frowning slightly. College had been good to her, too. She’s no longer so scrawny, filling out the parts of her clothes that would have been baggy before. She’s got  _ curves _ .

“Yeah Danny,” Tucker chimes in. “It takes a lot of work to build up muscle like this.” He pauses to flex again, makes his tee shirt ripple.

“I’m sure you’ll be average height, like, eventually. You won’t be tiny forever. Both of your parents are pretty tall!” He pats his tee down and grins. “Besides, you haven’t grown an inch since you were like, fourteen! You gotta be due for a growth spurt soon!” 

Out of nowhere, it feels like Danny has been doused in ice. 

He blinks a few times, losing focus on his friends, caught back up in a cycle of thought that’s been plaguing him for days. Maybe even weeks. 

Maybe longer. 

He hasn’t grown an inch. Hasn’t gone up a shoe size. He still wears almost all the same clothes, certainly all the same sizes. He thinks about how old his mom looked, earlier today. Last night. How much greyer his dad’s hair has gotten. A single idea though crosses into his frantic mind and he stops and looks at his friends.

When he knows what to look for, with fresh eyes, he can see how much they’ve changed. How much they’ve grown since they were fourteen. He can see the ways their shapes have changed as they’ve become adults and- and he can see how much he  _ hasn’t _ . Danny manages to take another step back in his sudden panic.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, not even looking at his friends as the realization takes hold. “Oh my  _ god,” _ he says again, not able to notice their concerned faces, not processing what they’re saying to him.

“I gotta go. I gotta go,” he says, spinning on his heel and immediately turning invisible and launching into the sky. 

_ ’But where do I go?’ _

* * *

After bidding the stout woman at the front desk a good day  _ (ignoring her fluttering eyelashes) _ , he makes his way back to his home, taking in the scenery from his too-expensive car. Midday sunlight burns bright and warm across the sky, birds sing their happy little songs, the local raccoons snooze away under bushes. A normal, average summer day in Amity Park. He taps his fingers against his elbow, watching the clouds roll lazily across the sky, careless. 

Back to his empty house. Lovely. 

The sprinklers were still running, making his lawn glitter in the light, but he turns his legs just this side of intangible to avoid ruining his shoes and pants. The empty foyer made the thrumming behind his eyes prominent and insistent, a hammer set to the one-two-pace of his thoughts. The lunch he makes for himself sits like lead in his stomach, weighing him down. 

He wonders, in brief idle moments like this, if he'll ever fill out properly. Even as he gets on in age, he's lacking the distinctive features of someone approaching their mid-fifties. No wrinkling around his lips, his eyes aren't plagued by crow's feet. 

"Well," he says aloud to himself. "I suppose I am rather healthy." 

The words echo in a hollow rhythm in the empty dining room. 

Shoving away from the table, Vlad rinses off his plate and plops them into the dishwasher before making his way downstairs in the human way. The stairs feel strange and foreign, he's so used to slipping straight under the floor and through to his lab; his feet sound louder than any beating drum he's ever heard.

_ 'Inconclusive,'  _ Vlad sighs, pulling the goggles back up to his hairline. He wasn't getting any of the results he's looking for from these samples, and he wonders if he might need to seek out a more pure source of ectoplasm-- one without a signature attached.  _ 'Easier said than done.' _ It had taken no small amount of time and patience on his part to collect  _ these  _ samples from around the ghost zone, and it had all been for  _ nothing _ . 

He folds his arms up on the counter, resting his forehead in the cradle of them.


End file.
